love poems for her

Sixty benignant years,
With all their joys and tears,
Have rolled by,
Since we, made one for life,
Were wedded, man and wife.
You and I.

The blest days we have seen,
The lands where we have been,
You and I,
Will linger on the brain,
Like some sweet song's refrain,
Till we die.

The friends our hearts have loved,
Whose love our hearts have proved,
Yours and mine,—
Some are our solace yet;
Some, like bright suns, now set,
Still they shine.

The years and ages pass,

Harper divine! with Love's elusive fingers
Touch the strings of this soft-breathing lyre
Till, vocal as the forest, choral as the sea,
They voice the everlasting song,
Fill all the air with ecstasy of wings,
And turn the harp to music.

My soul goes out to thee in adoration;
Thy love-revealing eyes
Have lifted me from dearth and desolation
To the blue bending skies.
Thou art my bliss, and all my thought of thee
Is love and beauty and sincerity.

I worship thee and blend the pale hues tender
In which the dawn is clad—
God's beauty—with the image of thy splendour
And know that He is glad.
My soul in loving thee is praising Him
More sweetly than the choral seraphim.

The footfall of the years brief in duration,

Day by day, with startling fleetness,
Life speeds away;
Love, alone, can glean its sweetness,
Love while you may.
While the soul is strong and fearless,
While the eye is bright and tearless,
Ere the heart is chilled and cheerless—
Love while you may.

Life may pass, but love, undying,
Dreads no decay;
Even from the grave replying,
“Love while you may.”
Love's the fruit, as life's the flower;
Love is heaven's rarest dower;
Love gives love its quick'ning power—
Love while you may.

The little white bride is left alone
With him, her lord; the guests have gone;
The festal hall is dim.
No jesting now, nor answering mirth.
The hush of sleep falls on the earth
And leaves her here with him.

Why should there be, O little white bride,
When the world has left you by his side,
A tear to brim your eyes?
Some old love-face that comes again,
Some old love-moment sweet with pain
Of passionate memories?

Does your heart yearn back with last regret
For the maiden meads of mignonette

We must not doubt, or fear, or dread, that love for life is only given,
And that the calm and sainted dead will meet estranged and cold in heaven:—
O, Love were poor and vain indeed, based on so harsh and stern a creed.

True that this earth must pass away, with all the starry worlds of light,
With all the glory of the day, and calmer tenderness of night;
For in that radiant home can shine alone the immortal and divine.

Earth's lower things—her pride, her fame, her science, learning, wealth, and power—

I think true love is never blind,
—But rather brings an added light,
An inner vision quick to find
—The beauties hid from common sight.

No soul can ever clearly see
—Another's highest, noblest part;
Save through the sweet philosophy
—And loving wisdom of the heart.

Your unanointed eyes shall fall
—On him who fills my world with light;
You do not see my friend at all;
—You see what hides him from your sight.

I see the feet that fain would climb;
—You but the steps that turn astray;

Who does not love true poetry,
He lacks a bosom friend
—To walk with him
—And talk with him,
And all his steps attend.

Who does not love true poetry—
Its rhythmic throb and swing
—The treat of it
—The sweet of it,
Along the paths of Spring:

Its joyous lilting melody
In every passing breeze,
—The deep of it,
—The sweep of it,
Through hours of toil or ease;

Its grandeur and sublimity—
Its majesty and might—
—The feel of it,
—The peal of it,

There is a place where lute and lyre are broken,
Where scrolls are torn and on a wild wind go,
Where tablets stand wiped naked for a token,
Where laurels wither and the daisies grow.

Lo: I too join the brotherhood of silence,
I am Love's trappist and you ask in vain,
For man through Love's gate, even as through Death's gate,
Goeth alone and comes not back again.

Yet here I pause, look back across the threshold,
Cry to my brethren, though the world be old,
Prophets and sages, questioners and doubters,

Love, we have looked on many shows
As over lands from sea to sea
Man with his Guardian Angel goes
His shining shadow more than he.

For us the Nile's first Kings lay covered
Under a mountain made with hands;
Or red bud bloomed and red bird hovered
Over the lost Red Indian lands.

Beside the sledge with fairy bells
The snow slid by like seas of foam;
Mirrored in many marble wells,
The sun sat regnant over Rome.

But not as distance, not as danger,
Not chance, and hardly even change,